Restoration
by SallowSapling
Summary: Ciel suffers from insomnia and a hatred for humanity. Falling under the spell of a certain mysterious librarian's charm is not what he considered a cure. Darkness descends onto these unsuspecting individuals, illuminating a path toward restoration for two lost souls. Shotacon, yaoi, AU, M for later chapters.


_A/N: Welcome to my first story, Restoration! I couldn't resist writing about my current obsession, Kuroshitsuji. More specifically, Sebastian and Ciel and all the opportunities they hold. The first chapter is kind of a prologue more than anything, but it becomes more fluffy and understandable and, being the perv I am, smutty throughout the story. So if you don't think sexual situations between a young adult and a teenage boy is hot, please click away and find some other story! But if you do, give it a read and tell me what you think!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of the smexy characters involved in this story, even though it's all I wished for for Christmas. So much for Christmas miracles._

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Chapter One: the Librarian

A child sits by the window, chin resting gently upon the heel of his hand. His pen scratches quietly against the paper lying beside his elbow as he listens to his teacher drone endlessly at the front of the room. He doesn't often indulge in drawing at school, but the unusual clarity of his nightmare from the previous night loiters in his thoughts and reappears every time he shuts his eyes; drawing the image seems to diminish the headache, as if the phantom drains from his mind through the lead of his pencil.

The shrill chime of a bell interrupts his teacher's lecture, and the rest of the students stand in a hurried unison to flee from the classroom. The child by the window does not join them. His teacher excuses herself, leaving him seemingly alone in the room. He spares a moment of silent relief to rest his eyes. He doesn't notice that a few students remain in the room with him.

"What you got there, Phantomhive?" a voice taunts from his right, followed by the snickering of others.

Large azure eyes appear from beneath tame slate hair and glare at the offenders. Ciel looks the closest boy up and down, observing his arrogant leer and messy brown hair.

"A little something called mine," he replies derisively. Disregarding the low grumble from the boy standing a few feet from him, he reached for his leather satchel sitting at his feet, only to have it snatched from beneath his fingertips. Ciel darts his eyes in the direction of the thief, narrowing them precariously when he flips it open and digs his dirty hand inside it.

"Let's see what you have today," the brunette says, taking a handful of pencils and tossing them behind him. He repeats this process with more papers and utensils, earning a few chuckles from his friends. Apparently pleased with the reaction, he flips the bag upside down. The remaining papers flare onto the tile floor, pooling around their feet.

He kicks away a few stray sheets, finally meeting his victim's gaze. He grins stupidly at Ciel and drops his satchel, snorting mockingly, "Shit, shit, and more shit. No phone, no cash, just a bunch of useless shit."

Ciel smirks, "I have no need to bring such unnecessary items to an institution that only requires its students to show up every morning with a pencil and half a brain. It seems you didn't get the memo, Alex," Alex lets out a low growl and kicks the leg of Ciel's chair, sending the dark haired boy falling backward. His world flips diagonally and he lets out a breath of surprise as his head bounces off the floor. He realizes when his vision stops spinning that Alex is standing astride Ciel.

"You shut your fucking mouth, Phantomhive," he warns. Alex strides to the other side of the desk and picks up Ciel's drawing booklet sitting innocently on the cold surface. "What the hell is this ugly thing?" he turns the booklet around, displaying Ciel's drawing to his amused friends. A dark silhouette hovers in the picture, raven wings spread from his shoulders and gray flames licking at his body. Ciel shivers at the memory of the mysterious figure in his dream. He raises himself from the ground, glaring up at the taller boy now flipping carelessly through his drawings.

"Give it back, Evans," Ciel mutters sternly, digging his nails into the palm of his hand.

Alex gawks stupidly at the underclassman, crooked grin widening at the threat. "Nah, I think I kind of like these…" he squints his eyes at the darkly shaded drawing of a grotesquely deformed figure, "…Whatever the fuck they are. But you know what? I think they could use some improvement."

Ciel lunges forward only to have his arms grasped from either side, keeping him in place. Alex tsks, wagging a finger condescendingly like a mother would scold her child.

"Now, now, don't be like that. You should be grateful that I'm lending my artistic skills to you! I don't do this often, you know," he lifts his hand, palm up, "This needs some color."

As he says this, a stout boy lifts an orange highlighter from the pile on the ground, placing it in the leader's hand. Ciel's breath hitches, attempting to restore his heart's sudden fluctuation in its normal rhythm.

"Put it down, Alex," Ciel shouts frantically, wriggling in his hold, "I mean it!"

Deep, taunting laughter was the only response to his pleas. Alex tugged the cap off the marker with yellow teeth, spitting it out at Ciel.

"This ugly bitch is too serious," he drawls, pursing his lips at the lamenting woman in the picture, "She needs a bright, shiny smile." He traces an arc through the air with the pen as a preview of the destruction he is about to cause on the pristine page.

"What's going on in here?"

All eyes turn to the door where a woman stands, thin lips curved downward in a displeased scowl.

Alex's leer turns to one of playfulness. "Nothing, Mrs. Ravenscroft," he shrugged, tucking the highlighter into his back pocket, "Just discussing the fine arts with our friend, Ciel."

Their teacher glances over at the anxious boy as the boys' hands release their grasp on his arms.

"Mister Phantomhive, collect your belongings and go to lunch," she muttered softly, gesturing her head toward the door. "Mister Evans, I'd like to have a word with you and your friends."

Alex sent a glare at Ciel whose disposition had returned to his usual stoic poise.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he uttered as he knelt down to scoop up his items and place them back in his bag. He stood up calmly and ripped the booklet from Alex's hands, sending a scornful glance at every perpetrator on his way out of the classroom and to the cafeteria.

* * *

"Just ignore those guys."

Ciel bites into an apple to avoid replying.

"You know they only do it because they're jealous of you, yeah?" the speaker persists.

Ciel lifts his gaze to the blonde boy beside him nibbling on a cookie, determined crystal blue eyes locked onto his own.

He sighs, standing from the bench and walking his tray to the trashcan, his blonde friend trailing dutifully at his heels. "Alex Evans and the rest of his punk group are not worth even a second of my consideration. I'm not going to waste my breath even speaking their names, Alois."

Alois makes a noise of frustration, scampering after Ciel as he wanders away from the lunchroom.

"Where are you going?" he whines after the stiff back striding away.

"Away. Don't follow me," he speaks, keeping his eyes trained on the cement walkway.

Alois's clicking footsteps trail off after this, leaving Ciel to wander alone and around a corner.

"Alright," he hears over his shoulder, "I'll see you in art, Ciel!"

Ciel scoffs at the blonde's cheerful voice. It is a wonder to him how the annoying boy continues to call Ciel his friend with the clearly rude way he treats him.

Running a hand through soft slate locks, Ciel breathes in the fresh afternoon air and closes his deep blue eyes. Images of flames flash behind his eyelids and screams of agony resonate in his head, sending a dull pain to his temples. He rubs the skin gingerly and opens his eyes, the gruesome sound slowly being replaced by the distant chatter of students and chirping of birds flying above migrating to a warmer place. Ciel watches a leaf stray from its branch, blowing away in the breeze.

He enjoys winter best. The sun's blistering heat subsides behind thick white clouds, and the downpour of rain turns into an equally white sea of unblemished beauty. Annoying mosquitoes would retreat from the cold, and less people would roam the streets, giving him the solitude he enjoys so much.

Ciel despises people, especially his classmates; their voices give Ciel headaches. He is immune to no voice, high or low pitched. Females shrill obnoxiously and males speak with a volume that echoes like a bass in his head. Every voice only reminds him of the haunting shrieks he experiences every night in his sleep. Even his own vocal chords are hardly used in fear of hearing a sound so similar to the one he emits through blurred dreams. True, Ciel Phantomhive is an honor student, an artist, and a considerably attractive freshman in high school, but he is also a morose, misanthropic insomniac. And as of now, the only thing he wants most of all is a dreamless nap.

However, despite how much his eyes plea for him to lie back in the grass and revel in a mere few minutes of sleep, Ciel returns to the towering prison of education and continues on with his day as he has for his entire life.

The schoolwork itself is not difficult for Ciel, but the challenge of listening to constant conversations and being surrounded by overly zealous teens is a waking nightmare. He wonders with amusement whether he would rather stay at school for eternity or be locked up in his house for a week. With a frown, Ciel immediately disregards the question, knowing the answer already. Anywhere is better than his house.

By the time the clock strikes half past three, Ciel is beyond exhausted. Running on two hours of sleep a night for a whole week strains the body and mind, even if it's the only way the dark haired boy has ever lived.

He slings his bag over his shoulder and saunters out of his last class, but he does not leave the school. Instead, he ascends the staircase to the second story and away from the voices. His afternoons are almost always spent in the school library, where he never has to hear or see anyone.

Ciel likes reading more than any movie he could watch or song he could hear and often finds solace within the quiet pages of a novel. After drawing, reading is the most pleasant escape from his own mind.

About twenty pages into some fantasy story, Ciel's eyes struggle to stay open and his grip on the hard back of the book lessens until he drifts into a new, dreadful nightmare, a new demon to haunt him. Flames engulf his body, cries of pain break from his throat as yet another dark figure stalks his vision.

Caught in the inescapable hellfires, Ciel endures the dream until he feels the cold fingers of a faceless entity wrap around his throat, signaling the end of his torture. For now.

He wakes with a jolt, his damp forehead rising from the text of the book and fingers digging into the wooden table.

"Damn," he mutters, looking out the window. The sky is brushed with tones of orange and pink, lightly dusted with stars as the blue hue of the night descends over the colors illuminating the horizon. Ciel would find this sight beautiful if he weren't in a panic over how late it ought to be.

He rushed out of the library with a quick nod to the elderly librarian packing up for the day, throwing his black hoodie over his shoulders and zipping it up as he hurried down the stairs. He hopes nobody is home.

Ciel jogs down the street, keeping a steady pace. He can't afford to become fatigued soon on his mile long trek back to his neighborhood.

Street lights flicker on one at a time, taunting Ciel in his hurry. He reaches for his inhaler, panting into the container to ease the burning of his lungs, even though his breath comes out in ice wisps. A drop of rain hits his cheek, followed by several others, reminding him of the storm predicted to hit tonight.

When he runs into a quieter neighborhood with less light than the busy streets near his school, a scratchy, dreadful voice calls through the rain.

"Well, look who it is, guys."

Ciel finds his feet cemented to the ground despite the instinct to run, but the familiar faces approaching from in front of him keeps him from continuing forward.

"What do you want, Alex?" Ciel says, glaring at the boy as he steps into the street light, goons closely behind with identical grins plastered to their faces.

Alex's smile drops into a menacing frown.

"That bitch gave me two weeks' detention because of you," he growls, pointing accusingly at the smaller boy.

"I did nothing," Ciel says calmly, "My arms were restrained."

Ciel was unprepared for the fist that digs into his stomach. His eyes widen at the loss of air in his lungs, curling into himself after Alex had retreated from the punch.

"Don't you give me that smartass attitude," he snaps, this time crushing Ciel's cheek bone with a swing to the face.

He hits the ground with a loud thud, only to have a foot burry itself between his ribs.

"My dad is going to be pissed! Now I'm going to have to miss the homecoming game, you pissant little bitch!" another kick is administered, then another.

All Ciel can do is protect his stomach head and allow the abuse. He is not going to reward the attacker with any speech or sounds of pain. By this point Alex's friends begin to murmur in discomfort, but never take their eyes off the cruelty Ciel is receiving.

He prays to no one in particular for a savior.

"You- motherfuck!" he hears above him. He waits for another violent strike to his body, but it does not come. Daring a peek through the pelting rain, he sees a dark silhouette looming above him and Alex, the other students having fled at some point.

"What do you think you're doing?" says a deep, steady voice.

Alex's arm is clasped tightly by the stranger, an expression of fear etched across the boy's face. However, he recomposes himself and glares up at the man.

"Who the hell are you?" he demands, struggling in the man's grip.

"I'd advise you leave this boy alone from now on," he grumbles deeply, baritone voice. "You have exactly one minute to get out of my sight."

For a moment it is silent.

"One, two, three…" the stranger counts mockingly, and only on five did Alex sneer and grimace at Ciel, a promise of return shared briefly between the two. He slowly walks away, disappearing into the night.

Ciel lay curved into himself, the taste of asphalt, water, and blood lingering on his tongue.

"Are you alright?" the stranger gently asks, face hidden against the halo of light behind him.

Ciel groans in acknowledgement, pushing himself off the ground. A warm hand presses to his shoulder, and Ciel stiffens.

"Can you walk?" the man asks, tucking his hands under Ciel's arms and helping him get on his feet. Ciel wobbles slightly before he steadies himself, pushing away the hands of the stranger.

He looks up at the man, finally able to see him clearly. He stands at least two feet taller than Ciel, white button up shirt and dark jeans as drenched as his own clothes. His skin is ashen against long raven bangs that frame his face, and captivating scarlet eyes meet Ciel's own surprised gaze.

Regaining his senses, Ciel readjusts his bag and nods, breaking eye contact. "Yes, I'm fine."

The man raises an eyebrow, doubting the boy as he cringes on his first step.

"Come, let me clean you up. You are absolutely soaked," the man offers a hand to the startled boy, observing the scowl on his lips at the gesture.

"I said I was fine," Ciel says sternly, taking another unsteady step away.

The stranger chuckles lowly behind him, a velvety sound that sends shivers up Ciel's spine, a sound unlike any he's heard before.

"I'm sorry, that must sound so suspicious to you. The public library is across the street; that is where I intend to patch your wounds. Don't be alarmed, I mean no harm. You have my word." The man reaches his hand father towards Ciel who skeptically darts his eyes between the offending hand and man's ruby eyes.

He knows he should decline, run away, scream stranger danger, but he is so tired and pained that he hardly cares anymore. Refuge is presented before him, and Ciel is hardly in a position to decline the man.

He slowly places his small fingers on top of the man's, which close around the little hand and give a small shake as to assure what has been said. A vampiric smile stretches the man's lips, and he releases Ciel's hand.

They tread across the road to the dimly lit building mentioned prior, and Ciel realizes once inside that he had been shivering in the rain.

"Take a seat, I'll get you a towel," the man says, flashing another grin before leaving the room.

It's warm and quiet and smells of dust and old books, a scent Ciel has become familiar with from the days he spends in his school's library. He feels himself relax, taking in the larger area and numerous rows of bookshelves, stacked two stories high and highlighted by overhead chandeliers. The building must be old, but modern paintings and furniture lines the entrance in a welcoming arrangement.

"Here," the man startles Ciel from behind, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. "I'll make some coffee."

Ciel frowns, turning to look at the man. "I don't really like coffee," he utters under his breath.

The man gives an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but we don't have any tea to offer. How about some hot chocolate? It will warm you up, at least," he says smoothly, brushing a strand of ebon hair out of his face only for it to fall back again.

Ciel knows better than to trust a stranger to serve him a drink, but he cannot help but agree as a harsh shiver quakes his body that he needs some form of warmth.

He gives a small nod, watching the man prepare the drink at a small counter, making sure he doesn't tamper it.

"The library closed just a few minutes ago, so I didn't bother reheating the water. It might not be very warm," he says idly, trying to make conversation.

Ciel does not want to converse.

He takes his drink wordlessly, his heart fluttering lightly and inexplicably as his hands briefly brush against the man's. They share a momentary glance at each other, broken quickly by the younger of the two as he feels heat rise to his cheeks. He hides his face behind the styrofoam cup.

_What the hell?_ he thinks to himself, _I'm acting weird. I need to sleep._

Ciel flinches yet again as he hears something being set down on the table.

"Let me put a bandage on your cut," the man says. Ciel lowers his cup, allowing the elder access to his cheek.

They don't speak as he disinfects the gash, careful not to harm the bruising, and places a bandage over the wound. Ciel takes this chance to observe him more closely, his thin lips, long eyelashes, pointed nose and concentrated crimson eyes. He's never seen anyone who looks like this man does, or has such a voice unlike any he's ever heard: silky, deep, entrancing.

"There," he says, leaning back from the boy. "Would you like me to drive you home?"

Ciel hesitates, dreading the storm awaiting him, but knows he cannot accept the offer.

"No, I'll be fine walking," he slides the towel back from his drying hair and places the cup on the table.

The man eyes Ciel critically, but flashes another white smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Alright," he says, "Oh, and by the way, if you hadn't noticed, I am the librarian here. You are free to return any time. My name is Sebastian."

_A regal name_, Ciel thinks, _A regal name to suit a regal appearance_. He is unsure whether or not he wants to reveal his own rare name, but decides the man seems, although mysterious, harmless enough.

"Ciel," the younger murmurs, giving the man who calls himself Sebastian a nod of the head before turning around. He considers what he is about to say next, but speaks before he can stop himself. "Thank you."

He doesn't wait for a reply, instead walking into the stormy night. He hurries as fast as his injuries will let him, worried for what will happen when he gets home. He has only stayed out this late once before, and the memory of broken dishes and bruising makes him sick to his stomach.

His thoughts on the walk back shift back to the bright library and charismatic librarian, his inviting yet strange smiles, his bizarre red orbs.

Growing annoyed by his own thoughts, Ciel spent the rest of his walk with a clear mind, focusing on not straining his chest on a steep slope upward.

By the time he reaches his house, the rain has softened to a drizzle. The windows are dark, and no sound emits from within. He stares at the door knob as if it were a threat before taking a deep breath and twisting it, letting himself in the house.

He prepares to be chastised, but no yelling is heard. She's not there.

He sighs in relief and goes to his room, shutting the door softly in case she might be sleeping. Though he doubts that she would be in bed this early if she were even here, which she rarely is.

Not even bothering to take off his shoes, Ciel's knees buckle and he falls onto his mattress, falling asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

Demons and fire plagues his eyes, but Ciel does not scream in his dream. For the first time in his life, a visible face emerges from within the smoke and darkness.

Sebastian smiles, softly and alluringly, before Ciel's vision goes black and he falls into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_A/N: If you read this far, then I love you. Please, leave me a comment on what you thought! Not to be that one author, but if I get enough reviews I'll update more chapters. I don't want to be that awkward person posting a story and doesn't even know what their readers think about it! Thanks for opening your mind to the first chapter, though, lots of love for that!_


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